Jack's Redemption
by whashaza
Summary: Lost, Jack needs to find himself again. J/S possible.
1. My name is

Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story are fictitious, and any similarity to a real person, living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintended by the author. I'm just borrowing the characters…so don't sue.

_I'm already at chapter 11 of my NCIS story, so I'm fairly certain I can keep up on schedule. I've done 5 chapters on this story and I started procrastinating. I'm bad that way when I don't have readers promising all kinds of torture for not updating. ;-) So I thought I'd start posting and hopefully my muse will play nice on this one too and I can upload a chapter at least once every week or so - depending on user request – my muse likes to be told how well she did. ;-)_

_Also a huge thanks to Lady Isaiah for playing beta for this story. She made everything sooo much better. And I hope she doesn't kill me for uploading before finishing the story. ;-)_

**Jack's Redemption**

**by**

**Whashaza**

**My name is …**

Somehow he knew that there wasn't supposed to be 2 moons in the sky. It just looked wrong. And the color was way off. It was a mixture of burgundy and red, blood-colored by whatever pollution hung in the air. And more importantly, the stars were aligned wrong. He couldn't find the pole star, couldn't find any way to guide him towards a direction. Not that he had any particular idea of where he was supposed to go or what he actually was doing on this planet.

And it was a crappy planet. The buildings all seemed circa 1940's. Big blocks of industrialized cement coated in grime and something ugly green that he didn't want to think about as being alive. The city streets were narrow and cobblestoned. The alleys were little more than narrow crevices between the buildings.

The government sucked just as bad. An overlord with his own Jaffa guard set up here by Anubis. Mr. Overlord liked terrorizing the population and it was the fact that there was a curfew – which he currently was violating – that had him looking over his shoulder as he silently made his way down the alley to a hiding place he had found the second night out.

He didn't want to think about the object lesson he had been taught the first night he had been found by the Jaffa.

_Nope. Definitely not a memory he cherished. _

Another headache blinded him momentarily and he closed his eyes, leaning against the wall as he tried to ride the wave of pain as it throbbed right behind his eyes. Nausea assailed his senses and he tried his best not to give in but in the end he couldn't fight against the overwhelming queasiness and he gagged, spitting out nothing more than the little water he had drank not so long ago.

_Crap _

He wiped his mouth with a dirt crusted hand, leaving behind another brown smear on his face. Pushing himself away from the wall, he stumbled his way further down the alley. A noise had him swung around, his hands raised defensively. A rat or something similar big with a tail scurried over his feet and disappeared down the alley. The sudden movement didn't help the lingering nausea. His knees gave out and he sank down next to the wall and vomited. It felt like a lifetime before the heaving stopped.

He oh so much loved the sour taste of bile in his mouth, he thought darkly, can't wait for the next time.

When he was done he gave himself another minute as he just breathed and concentrated on not throwing up again. Skittish now, he rose and started towards an abandoned building that rose like a broken bird's claw, dark against the star brightened sky.

"Who goes there?"

"It's me, Dean."

His voice sounded raw. He grimaced when a shadow detached itself from the wall. Average height, blond hair, blue eyes. Hollywood material. The screen would just love the guard's good looks.

"You know the rules."

For a moment despair hit him hard before he rallied, straightening his back and returning the glare of the other man.

"I've only managed to get five credits. Pickings at the market were slim today."

Silence met his statement. Placing his hand in his pocket, he felt the hard edges of the coins he had spent mucking the day for. Thinking of the meager food waiting inside had his stomach rumble even while the nausea at the thought of food made him rethink his desperation to find a way inside. But he couldn't stay the night out on the street. There were a lot worse things out there than inside this building.

"Joruus, what's going on?"

Another man stepped from the doorway of the building, his shape large and intimidating next to the guard. He could just make out the weird red glow of the man's eyes. It was focused on him, ignoring the guard stuttering a response that he had failed to find enough coins to pay for protection tonight.

"How much?"

He took out the coins, holding them with an outstretched hand as the other man glanced down briefly before assessing him again. The distant sounds of footsteps threading rhythmically had all of them staring into the darkness, as if they could see through the walls towards where the Jaffa was starting their nightly patrols.

He could see that the guard was frightened, could see it in the way the man was wetting his lips, his eyes big and his breathing shallow and fast.

"Marcus?" The guards whisper was soft, the question and desperation both there, wanting to make the bigger man aware of the impending danger as well as to make the decision about what to do with him.

Marcus nodded at Joruus in acknowledgment before turning his back on him, dismissing him to a night on the streets.

He had promised himself that he would never beg.

But the sounds of the footsteps coming closer threw up memories of pain. Pain and overwhelming loss that had nothing to do with his first night curfew violating lesson he had endured by the guards.

He couldn't deal with those memories again.

"Please."

Marcus paused, his body filling the entrance, his shoulders wide enough to brush the doorway. For a brief moment he thought that he would have to fight his way inside and was already contemplating moves that he'd use on Joruus, moves that would incapacitate the other man and he didn't really give a damn if it ended up with Joruus being dead.

Then Marcus gave a brief nod before disappearing into the darkness of the room beyond the entryway. A moment later both he and Joruus followed Marcus inside as the footsteps started to echo of the surrounding walls.

The muffled sound of a staff weapon followed by a brief distant scream chased them as they moved quietly deeper into the ruins, aware that they were not yet safe.

A moment later they came to a standstill in front of a pockmarked concrete wall. A rat scurried through a hole in the wall, its long tail giving a last twitch before disappearing all together. He could hear its little footsteps as it pat-a-patted along some piping behind the wall. He wondered if it had been the same rat that had passed him in the alley.

The sound of dripping water reminded him of rivers and the sense of peace and tranquility. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to catch the fleeting memory but it flirted away, leaving blankness behind.

All that was left was desperation. And fear, pain and the feeling of emptiness where his heart is supposed to be.

Nausea returned with a vengeance. He stumbled towards a darkened corner where a pile of stinking refuse had been left to rot. The smell added to his senses and he dropped to his knees, temporarily weakened by another emptying of his stomach. He heard the brief scraping as the hidden door was finally opened.

Less than a second later he heard it close.

He scrambled to his feet, taking several steps to the wall, angry that Marcus and Joruus had not waited for him. A voice, distorted and metallic came from the alley. Pressing his lips together, he fought down his panic. His hands moved across the wall, searching the pockmarks for the hidden trigger that would open the door.

"Kel shak?"

"Mel nok tee."

The creak of leather alerted him that one of the Jaffa had probably entered the ruins. Everything inside him went quit. Still.

His mind calculated his options. Fight or flight.

"Sarit."

With sudden clarity he knew what he had to do. Knew too that if his plan failed that there was no way that he'd let them take him alive.

Not after what happened the last time.

**************

Tbc

_Reviews much appreciated._


	2. I died

**I died…**

_The sky was blue and the air smelled fresh. The wind caressed his face and he closed his eyes, tilting his head, enjoying the feeling of the coolness against his sun warmed features. He heard a voice and he opened his eyes and turned towards the person that had called him. Blond hair, blue eyes…_

He jerked awake. For one confusing instant he tried to capture the image of the person from his dream. Then pain flared again, a tight spot just above his hip and he realized that it was a kick even while he rolled away into a crouch, his hands raised defensively in front of him.

_Crap, crap, crap, crap_

Four men. One of them Joruus.

"Look, I don't want any trouble, okay."

Joruus sneered, indicating slightly with his head at the men. Two of them encircled him, forcing him to take a step back, so that he was flush against the wall.

"How come you're still alive?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Lucky, I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Joruus folded his arms. "You know what I think? I think that you're a lying, stinking rat."

He hedged his bets by not replying. A moment later the men pounced.

He tried. He really did. He was pretty sure he had broken one of the men's arms, had left another with a bloody eye. But he was already weakened, had not eaten in a day and had just spent the night playing hide-and-seek with a bunch of Jackal guards.

Fists slammed into his body and as he sank to his knees they used their feet. He felt a rib crack, felt each pounding as it created more bruises. For a moment he wondered why he even bothered, why not just give in and let it all go.

But he had made a promise.

And he always kept his promises.

Bellowing, he rose and managed an upper cut that had Joruus staggering backwards, creating an opening. He took it, stumbling through it and then he ran for the gaping hole in the wall. He grabbed the ledge, holding on to the crumbling wall and he stared at the ground, two stories down. Behind him he heard Joruus swear.

"You're so fucking dead for that."

He glanced backwards.

Joruus was fumbling with his pocket and then a wicked looking knife made its appearance. His eyes flew to it, recognizing something familiar in its curved lines.

"_Death will only offer a temporary escape. I can revive you again and again…a thousand times if need be. Only once you have told me everything I ask, will you be allowed to die."_

He didn't have time to process the creepy voice in his head. Joruus stepped towards him, the knife held expertly in his hand. He knew enough to realize that unless he jumped, death would be an option that he just wasn't in the mood to take.

He took a deep breath and then he jumped. The litany of some distant instructor's voice sounded inside his head, telling him to tuck and roll. Then the ground was there. He felt his ankle twist and his roll became a tumble of legs and arms. He tasted dirt, gagged and spat as he tried to get rid of the gritty metallic taste in his mouth. He heard Joruus scream. Not giving himself time, he managed to make it to his feet and then he was hobbling away, hand against the wall to help him.

"Don't come back, ya hear!"

_Yeah, yeah, like I'd wanna sleep in that rat hole by choice._

He was halfway down the alley he had traversed the previous night before he sank down the wall and took a good look at his ankle. It was swollen, shiny and turning blue very rapidly. It's gonna be sore for a while but at least it wasn't broken.

The thundering boom of death glider had him hug the wall as he nervously eyed the small opening of sky above him. He wiped his face with a trembling hand as the echo of the glider faded away.

And just like that he was hit by another flashback -

* * *

_- "Ah, fer crying out loud."_

_"Sir?"_

_"Couldn't we for once land on a planet that had a nice balmy beach with cocktails?"_

_"Statistically speaking, Sir we should hit one of those in the next hundred cycles."_

_He gave her his most sarcastic stare but it was lost on her or she was immune to it by now. He eyed the panorama before him. The gate was set on a bluff overlooking rugged rock and cactus terrain. The wind had a cold nip to it that belayed the harsh desert-like look in front of him. He had always hated wide open spaces. In his experience it always ended up with someone getting killed._

_He wasn't about to let one of his team go that route._

_"Jack, you should see this."_

_He followed the exited archeologist away from the gate, Teal'c and Carter in tow. He almost groaned when he saw the city in the distance with the nice big ha'tak seated in the centre of it. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he eyed the immediate surroundings for any sign of Jaffa guards._

_Usually there would be a possy of them guarding the gate. It worried him that they had came through unmolested._

_"Carter, dial us out of here."_

_Teal'c was already on guard, his staff weapon up and ready for any attack. Daniel was turning towards him when O'Neill heard the familiar wine of a staff weapon._

_He watched the energy hit Daniel square in the chest and before Jack could do anything, the archeologist was flung backwards of the bluff, disappearing from view. Teal'c was returning fire to the Jaffa guards that were rising like ghosts from the ground as Jack hit the ground and scrambled forward to lean over the edge._

_Daniel was a hazy broken body, splayed out on the rocks about a mile down the cliff._

_Never leave a man behind._

_He turned only to watch Teal'c's body dance under multiple hits. Carter was running towards them, her P-90 sounding loud in the surrounding stillness. He screamed at her to go back to the gate._

_Instead, he watched her die._

_He rose from his position by the cliff, his weapon already hot in his hands as he attacked. The first staff blast didn't slow him down as he killed two Jaffa. The second came as a surprise. He felt it as a burst of heat and then a numbness of cold. He looked down to see a wide blossoming of red on his thigh._

_But he kept going cause his team was dead and it was his fault._

_The third hit him in the shoulder as he killed another guard._

_Pins and needles danced across his arm and as he tried to pull the trigger with an unresponsive hand and the fourth blast hit him square in the stomach._

_He sank down to his knees as blood bubbled out of his mouth._

_He heard the scream of death gliders as he slid forward, all energy gone out of his body. He managed to roll onto his back and saw the shadow of a glider as it hovered overhead._

_Then he died -_

* * *

-he took a deep shuddering breathe as the memories fled from him. He had a recollection of pain and loss.

Of losing…friends.

He glanced down the alley to where he had come from. Satisfied that Joruus and his buddies wasn't about to sneak up on him, he rose shakily as he willed his body to recover from the flashback. He hated the tremor in his hands, so he shoved them into the pockets of his jacket as he hobbled his way towards the street.

Early morning traffic had him dodging horse drawn carts and other pedestrians that were intent on getting to work. He kept his head down as he slowly made his way towards the eastern part of the city where the stalls for the horses were located. He used the back alleys whenever he came to a check point on his route.

It took him around thirty minutes before he reached his destination.

He stood outside the stalls waiting for the owner to acknowledge him. He leaned tiredly against the wall, favoring his left ankle as he did so.

"You're late."

He looked up, eyes meeting Seth's. "Had some trouble."

Seth looked him up and down and then his eyes softened. "There's some bread and water in the last stall. So go on, get."

He swallowed at the unexpected generosity of the other man. Nodding to hide the sudden moisture in his eyes, he shuffled his way quickly past the owner mumbling thanks.

He found the bread and water where indicated. Breaking the bread in half, he shoved one into his pants pocket and then savored the rest slowly as he allowed the sustenance to fill his belly. Even though it was a little old and dry, it tasted like heaven.

He was still hungry after the meager half was done but he didn't touch the rest.

The rest of the bread was for tonight.

He spent the rest of the day mucking out crap, bringing in clean hay and straw, refilling water troughs and brushing old Bess. When he was done, the horse muzzled his hand. He leaned his head against the Bess' neck, feeling the warmth of life beneath his fingertips. For a brief moment he felt safe.

Seth paid him for the day's work and he left the stalls only to sneak back when Seth retired to his house that was nestled at the back of the stalls.

He settled himself in Bess' stall, huddling under the straw as the familiar footsteps of the guards starting their patrols lulled him to sleep.

That night he dreamed again of blue skies and the blond, blue eyed angel. He woke wishing with all his heart that she was real. But he knew better. Reality is all but a poor imitation of what can be.

And who would want a broken man anyway.

* * *

_Inspire my muse and leave a review. ;-)_


	3. I lived

**I lived…**

"You came."

"I promised I would."

Brown eyes followed his every move as he took out the piece of bread he had saved.

"How is she?"

"About the same."

"What happened to your face?"

"I fell?"

"Uh huh."

The child reached out a tentative hand, touching one of the bruises on his face, as if inspecting it. "Does it hurt?"

"It did."

The boy cast his eyes down, dropping his hand. "You shouldn't take chances. I don't want to lose you too."

He reached out and ruffled Michal's hair. Grinning, he said, "I'm still here, aren't I?" When the boy didn't respond, he leaned forward and gently gripping the boy's chin, he lifted the head so that the boy could meet his gaze.

"I'm not going anywhere, Michal. I made a promise. Remember."

Serious brown eyes scrutinized his own. "My da also made that promise."

Michal's words were enough to trigger a response from memories he had tried his best to suppress. The room seemed to shrink, folding in around him as he heard the whispers and screams of those unfortunate enough to warrant the attention of the guards. Holding his hands over his ears, he rocked back and forth, willing the sounds to disappear.

* * *

_On the fifth day he realizes that he couldn't remember who he was supposed to be. Or what he was doing here. Or why he was singled out by the guards. All he did know was that he was hungry and thirsty and desperately wanted a hot shower._

_One of the other prisoners tries to befriend him, his eyes dark and unreadable in the semi-darkness of the cell. Brown hair standing in waves of unruliness, face smeared with dirt and sweat and old blood. A hand - fingernails black (somehow he notices that little detail) – touches his arm. He barely flinches, his own eyes carefully sealing his emotions inside as he returns the guy's stare. The man looks towards the cell door; his movement's jerky as he pulls his hand back. Squatting, he leans in and the semi-sweet fetid smell of rotting teeth centre's on his face. _

"_I died, you know. Twice."_

_Great. A nutcase._

_The guy gives another furtive glance at the cell door. _

"_You should make yourself invisible. It's the only way they don't take you to the red door."_

_He closes his eyes, hoping this will be enough to send the idiot on his way. He hears shuffling of feet and then a sniffle. _

_He thinks he remembers blue skies and cool rivers rich with fish. _

_Was he fisherman?_

_He wasn't sure. _

"_Kel shak kree, kel shak kree…"_

_It sounds like a damn lullaby. He opens his eyes to watch as the guy hugs himself, his eyes closed and features filled with a weird kind of bliss._

_Maybe Daniel will know what to make of this guy._

_Crap._

_Who the hell is Daniel?_

_For a moment he ponders the question. A blank face with glasses somehow materializes. And sneezing. Whatever the hell that would mean._

_And then he stills. _

_The weirdo moves suddenly and so silent, it's like watching a ghost. A moment later he watches as the guy shrinks into a darkened pool of shadow and freeze._

_When the footsteps pass, he remembers to breathe._

_Heart thudding in his chest, he realizes that he was clenching his hands, tight enough to create little half-moon grooves in the palms of his hand._

_He hears the weirdo start to hum the idiot little song again, the notes soft and melodic in the twilight surrounding them._

* * *

_He grimaces as he touches his beard. At least he knows that he doesn't like the prickliness all over his face. _

_He dreams about soap and a shaving knife sharp enough to glide effortlessly over his skin and cleanse him from his irritation. _

_He wakes to find weirdo staring at him hungrily. _

_Disconcerted, he shuffles away until his back hits the corner. He tries to remember the last time he had ate anything._

_His stomach clenches painfully and he swears that he can feel it shrinking even as he craves to fill it with anything._

_Pizza._

_Now that would be good. Full of cheese and pepperoni._

_He doesn't question his knowledge of pizza. Or steak. Or hamburgers._

_Something skitters across the floor and even as he eyes the cockroach, the weirdo pounces. Nausea assails him when the guy crunches the insect alive, a twitching foot disappearing from between his lips._

_And then the footsteps again._

_This time the door opens._

* * *

_He still hasn't given himself a name. He's not sure why. Or whether it should matter. But he does know that every time he tries to think about it, his head hurts._

_It's just easier not to._

_Plus it saves him from a pounding headache._

* * *

_He's cold when he rises to consciousness. For some inexplicable reason he suddenly feels alone. _

_As if he should be missed somewhere._

_Weirdo is ominously quite. _

_He shuffles his way upwards until his back is leaning against the wall. He can feel blood and grit and vomit in his mouth. His side is tight and protests with each shallow breath he takes. His one eye is swollen tight and he tries his best to survey the room through his other eye._

_The room tilts and he close his eye as he leans back, trying to ride out the wave of pain and threatening blackness._

* * *

_For a while they ignore him. _

_He knows it's wrong but he feels grateful for it._

_At least now his body can heal itself again. _

_And hope fades with each black-blue bruise._

* * *

He hears sobbing and pleading. He comes to awareness, like a drowning man coming up for air. He realizes that he's curled tight, back against the wall, his arms hugging his body as if he's trying to comfort himself. Or anchor himself.

He's not sure which.

"Michal?"

Brown eyes wet with tears stare at him, hurt and something else very much evident.

"You went away like mom."

Accusation was sharp in the statement. He tries to think about where he had gone, about his memories. He swallows at remembered pain and loneliness and guilt.

And then Michal's body was there, clinging to him like a clamp. Tight and suffocating.

Somehow comforting. Somehow familiar. As if he had known a small body like this. Of hugs and smiles and…

…incredible sadness.

The memory takes flight before he can fully investigate. Not wanting to dwell on that feeling, he lets it go.

"Please, please, please don't go away again."

He nods, not sure if he had a voice yet to give an assurance.

Or if he could lie and tell the boy that this would never happen again.

And wondered at the same time how long it's going to be before he wakes again not screaming from another nightmare.

* * *

Tbc

_Inspire my muse and leave a review. ;-)_


	4. I watched you die

**I watched you die…**

_They were lined up against the wall, their eyes darting from him to the Jaffa standing behind him. He met each gaze, silently apologizing to each of them for putting their lives in danger and desperately searching for a way to protect them._

_But he couldn't._

_He knew what was coming. Even as these thoughts rebelliously entered his mind the Jaffa behind him laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. Despite the fact that his hands were restrained behind his back, he still tried to move away from his kneeling position in front of the two men and woman._

_He didn't want to relive this again. Didn't want to see his friends die again._

_Not again._

_The whine and light thudded as the staff weapon in one of the guards hands opened and he jerked despite the fact that he knew with absolute certainty what was about to happen. He gave the team before him one last deploring look and then despite the instruction from the guard behind him – he closed his eyes._

_The bottom end of the staff weapon connected solidly at the spot just above his liver. His eyes opened wide as white hot agony sliced through his body._

_"Kell shak kree."_

_The command was brutal and loud in the room, echoing off the walls as he tried not to sob as the agony continued to ride his body through waves of pain. He lowered his head, bit his lip and thought of all the things he'd do to the Jaffa standing behind him when he got free._

_Fingers clawed into hair and jerked his head up. Three pairs of eyes met his own. They were resigned to their fate. He could see it in the square of the shoulders. In the fear and courage and terror that was evident all at once in their souls. He wondered if this time it'd be different._

_The fingers in his hair tightened, holding his head firmly in place when the rhythmic footsteps came from the corridor. His hands cramped into tight fists. His stomach clenched and his breathing increased._

_His presence filled the room._

_It was malevolent. Suffocating. Making it almost impossible to breathe. He thought about all the previous times this had happened. About all the smart ass remarks he had made._

_About the pleading._

_Anubis stepped into view, his cape swirling around him like a dark shadow. Alive. Writhing._

_"And here we are again, O'Neill."_

_He couldn't help himself. "How long has it been?"_

_Anubis gave a sinister chuckle that raised all the hairs on the back of his neck. The half-ascended man turned sideways, throwing a glance at his team standing against the wall._

_"Do you like seeing them die?"_

_He didn't know how to reply to that. His muscles contracted and the Jaffa behind him tightened his grip on Jack's shoulder warningly. He concentrated on letting the tension go, willing his muscles to relax._

_"You can try standing there while your Jaffa practices their shooting skills."_

_Anubis tilted his head. As usual, his mouth had run away from him but his fear for his friends was suffocating and paralysing._

_And he really, really didn't want to see the next bit of the current situation play itself out again. Anubis read his mind. He gave a little wave of his hand._

_Jack watched as Carter, Daniel and Teal'c died._

_Anubis indicated with his hand again. A device was put in his hand and he went down on his haunches in front of Jack. A black clad hand reached out and gripped Jack's jaw, turning his head so that he had no choice but to stare into the black mask._

_"How many times, O'Neill? Because I can do this for a very, very long time before your friends' bodies will become too damaged to be revived."_

_His eyes shifted from Anubis' towards where his friends' bodies lay. He swallowed as the memories of all the previous executions started to overlap._

_Bile churned in his throat, threatening to overspill as the images continued to assault his mind._

_"You can save them from dying again, O'Neill. I will send their bodies back to your SG command to be buried. They will never know about the bargain you made."_

_He swallows the bile._

_"Alive."_

_He swallows again and turning his full attention on Anubis, he says, "You send them back alive."_

_Anubis seemed to contemplate his request; his fingers still bruise gripping tight on Jack's jaw. Jack waited, his gaze never leaving the half-ascended man in front of him._

_"Very well. They will be returned. Alive."_

_Then Anubis shifted his hand and gave Jack a small pat on his face. He stood up and away. He pressed something on the device. It starts to unfold, a bright light escaping as it seems to expand and shrink all at once._

_Jack watched with fascination and dread as the Ancient device changed shape before his eyes. It almost seemed…alive. Carter would have a field-day trying to understand the scientific workings behind it. Daniel would love to read the symbols. Teal'c, well he would tell them all how he had not encountered technology like this before._

_He felt his restraints fall away. He brought his hands around and immediately started rubbing his wrists._

_Anubis was standing to one side, watching him intently. Jack swallowed his fear, glanced one last time at his teams' bodies and then stepped towards the device._

* * *

_Dust swirled in eddies around him. The wind was soft, warm and caressing. He was standing in some sort of basin, the mountains around him dark blue in the distance._

Hear us….

See us….

_The whispers had him spin his body around as he searched the empty landscape. Something else besides dust swirled around him. Ghostly hands flirted over his hands and face. Tucked at his hair._

Obey us…

Obey

_The first brief touch was as violating as the time that the replicators had entered his mind. Then all at once they were there, inside his mind. Showing him their memories. Their fears. Their hatred. Taking what they wanted from his own memories._

_Showing him Charlie's death. Twisting it. Changing it._

* * *

_"Charlie, I'm home."_

_"Dad, guess what I did at school."_

_"What's that, sport."_

_"How to throw a fast ball. You wanna see?"_

_"Not now, Charlie. Little bit later okay."_

_"Now, please Dad."_

_He watches his son run up the stairs when he reiterates that they couldn't do it now. He turns towards the kitchen, intent on making it up to Charlie later._

_His cup shattered to forgotten pieces when the gunshot sounded loudly in the stillness of the room._

* * *

He screamed himself awake. The memories of Anubis, the Ancient device and the ghost -people faded away as the memory of incredible loss and sadness grip him so tight that he struggled to breathe. Sobs was tearing itself free from his body and he curled into a ball, stifling them as much as he could.

_I'm so so sorry._

He kept repeating the mantra, not really understanding why he was sorry or why he was saying the words. He wiped the tear tracks from his face when he was done as he listened to the night sounds of the city around him.

Bess was moving quietly, snorting in the darkness. Thunder rumbled in the distance and he thought he could smell rain on the air. He shivered briefly in the cooling night air and then rose and touched Bess' nose, revelling in the warmth of her breath against his hand as she nudged him. He laid his head against her neck, finding comfort in the presence of the animal.

She snorted again, stepping away when the sounds of a passing patrol sounded harsh in the stillness of the stable. He shrinked back against her, eyes straining against the dark and waiting until the footsteps faded away before he relaxed again.

Thunder rolled again, this time closer. A ghostly hand curled around his bicep. Whispers sounded in his ears.

_Not again._

Lightning flashed and almost immediately the thunder boomed overhead. Bess reared onto her back legs, her nostrils wide, and her eyes rolling in fright. He had no time to react as the hooves came down, one of them slicing towards his head.

It felt like being struck by a two by four. He had enough presence of mind to roll towards to wall as nausea and dizziness competed with the agony of his head.

He thought he could smell the acrid smell of wood burning. Heard Bess as she kicked against the boards of her stall. Felt a rib break when she inadvertently stepped on him in her panic.

Voices.

The squeak of Bess' stall door opening and the thundering hooves as she escaped.

Someone kneeling beside him, hand on his shoulder.

Then darkness.

* * *

_tbc_

_Do you want more? Let my muse know. ;-)_


	5. again

_Thanks be to my super beta and friend Topanga for helping out on all my silly spelling and grammar mistakes. You're the best. ;-)_

…**Again… **

With a sudden gasp he woke, his arms rising reflexively over his head. Less than a second later, they cross over his chest and he knew immediately that he'd broken at least one rib. The familiar ache of a concussion slammed against his head in rhythm, forcing him to keep his eyes closed, knowing that any light would only enhance the pain tenfold. He tried to remember what had happened.

Felt frustrated when he couldn't.

He kept still, assessing his situation as best he could without moving. He was pretty sure that he was lying on a bed. Something cold was pressed against his forehead. The nausea wasn't too bad, considering his headache.

_Crap. Where the hell was he?_

For as long as he could remember living on this crappy planet, waking had never been safe. Waking up always meant someone else wanting something from him. He was interrupted from dwelling any further on his experiences when he heard the sound of a door quietly being opened. Even though he hadn't moved or opened his eyes, someone said, "Finally awake, are we?"

He grunted an answer, not yet convinced that he wouldn't throw up if he tried to say something. Movement close to him nearly had him panicking, but he kept his fear in check. A moment later the cloth was removed to be replaced by a new colder one. It made his headache hurt a little less, enough for him to attempt to open his eyes as slits.

Vague shadows moved across his vision and then a hand pressed his eye lids gently closed again.

"Get some rest. It will help with the concussion."

Grateful for the care and advice and the fact that he didn't have to sleep outside or in the ruins with Joruus as a constant threat, he allowed the sleep his so desperately craved to come over him.

* * *

_"Every goa'uld jail looks exactly like another goa'uld jail. You'd think they'd come up with something a little more original than this," he said, eyeing the closed door. Carter didn't bother to reply, just as he 'c only gave him the eyebrow, while Daniel was trying his best not to look too hung over from the last zat gun blast._

_"At least we're still alive, Jack," Daniel said, closing his eyes and leaning forward, he started to rub his temples with two fingers in a circular motion. "And you're not the one who fell off a cliff."_

_"Yeah. There's always that. I'm sure they brought us back to life to thank us for conveniently dying on them."_

_Daniel opened his mouth to reply when the familiar footsteps of the Jaffa echoed off the walls. When the door opened, Jack lifted his eyebrows. "You again?"_

_"My master would be pleased that I have captured you again."_

_"Oh. I'm sure he would be."_

_"You are to come with me, O'Neill."_

_"Do I have a choice in this?"_

_Herak, first prime of Anubis didn't seem amused at his words._

_"You kids be good," were his parting words as the door slid close behind him. Jack was sandwiched between four Jaffa guards, following Herak as he lead the way from the lower dungeon area to a room near the top of the ha'tak. Jack glanced out the window, noticing the cityscape sitting snug against the spaceship. It looked like the ha'tak had been parked here a while, enough for small square houses to be built close to the ship._

_The room was colored in a garish gold with one big throne-like chair seated in the middle. No other furniture. Jack wondered why the goa'uld never seemed to think that personal comfort included pillows or soft beds. Granted, the tours he had taken of ha'tak had always been either infiltration where sneakiness was more important than visiting the personal quarters of whatever snakehead's ship it was or on the other end of a staff weapon with the usual – "Kneel before your god" – crap they liked to spout forth._

_Turning from the window, he grimaces as he is forced to his knees in front of the chair. His old knee injury sends a familiar stab of pain that he ignores as best he could. Surprise, surprise, he thought. So it's gonna be the old – kneel before your god – tactic. How original. He didn't have to wait long before Anubis entered the room, sweeping his way to the throne in his typical fashion. When the goa'uld sat down with his usual flourish, Jack had to force himself not to roll his eyes._

_"O'Neill."_

_"That's my name, don't wear it out."_

_A staff weapon in his side later, he picked himself up from the floor. It probably wouldn't do to antagonize the guy, but he was past caring at this stage._

_"I have been waiting for you."_

_"Not for long, I hope."_

_"Our intelligence was quite sufficient. I did not wait long."_

_"Oh," Jack said. He wasn't sure how to reply to the fact that once again it seemed they had a spy in SG Command's midst. Or maybe Anubis was playing mind games and their capture had been an opportune moment._

_"I need your mind for an ancient device I have."_

_"Sorry, my mind is otherwise occupied," he replied glibly. The memories of the other times that his mind had been taken over by the ancient depository device were still too fresh for him not to have a small ball of fear settle somewhere deep in his stomach._

_"You will, in the end, be a willing participant."_

_"I don't think so."_

_Anubis didn't reply. He rose and walked past Jack, close enough that the colonel could feel a tingling of static on his skin. The half-ascended goa'uld paused at the door, one hand on the lintel when he said, "You will, O'Neill. Do not doubt it."_

_The ball of fear in his stomach grew even more so when he was escorted back to the cell to find that the rest of his team was gone. As he turned he saw Herak's predatory smile as the door slid closed._

_His fist connected with the door in anger. Silence met his defiance. He tried shouting a few epitaphs but got no response and in the end he made his way to one of the bunks bolted to the wall. Seated, he leaned back against the wall as he tried not to remember the last time in the Gulf War when he had been captured and kept in a small dark hole for a month, not knowing if his team had made it out or not. And whether or not they'd be coming back for him._

* * *

Someone was spooning soup into his mouth, coaxing him to swallow. It tasted bitter and too spicy and he gagged. Immediately regretting the action as his broken rib grated against already bruised muscle, sending white hot flames of pain coursing through his body.

"Take it easy, Dean. It's just soup. It will make you feel better."

He shook his head and turned it away from the pungent smell, swallowing against the sudden nausea that assailed him.

"You have to eat."

No strength left to fight, he allowed himself, once again, to sink back into oblivion and the memories which he, for the life of him, couldn't recall while he was conscious.

* * *

_He awoke to darkness. For a moment he thought he was back in Iraq watching Frank Cromwell disappear as the Iraqi guards surrounded him. And waiting with bated breath for Frank to turn around and come back for him. Watching his friend continue to retreat as he tasted the ashes of defeat like sour lemon in his mouth and watching his trust hemorrhage into the sand like his blood._

_It had taken until SG-1 before he had learned to trust again._

_Jack knew that if it had not been for this team, he would've succumbed long ago to the darkness that had come so close to spiraling him into a never ending hole from which he wouldn't have been able to escape._

_Pressing his hand to his forehead, he ground it in as he tried to focus on a plan. First things first, get out of the cell. Then find out where they were holding the rest of SG-1. Easy. He nearly grinned, but didn't, deciding that being alone in a cell with no-one to appreciate the situation would be a bit too freaky._

_Besides, he had once again forgotten to tape the Simpsons. And the only reason had been because this was supposed to have been an easy mission. Gate in, say hi to the locals and gate back to SGC. Nothing too fancy. There hadn't even been any ruins that he could see. And Anubis had spoiled his nice safe plan._

_He had been awake for at least an hour when the familiar tread of Jaffa boots had him waiting against the wall next to the door. As the door slid open, he rolled underneath, completely taking the guard by surprise when he slammed into his feet. The guard went down, taking with him another one who'd been waiting just behind him. Scrambling to his feet, he managed to grab onto a staff weapon. Jamming the butt end into the second guard who was starting to rise, he turns the staff weapon around a la Teal'c style. The front opened, energy crackling and the first guard wisely decided to stay where he was, eyes dark with anger. Motioning them into the cell, he closed it and blasted the key pad for good measure. He could hear them pounding against the door but figured that he'd be safe for at least as long as it would've taken them to reach wherever they were supposed to take him._

_He made his way through the maze of tunnels. He managed to evade the occasional guard he met on route, ducking into doorways or behind walls into the alcoves that dotted all over the place._

_Less than five minutes after his escape an alarm sounded loud as he ducked into another alcove. He liked his odds even less now but he was driven to find his team. It was a compulsion inside him for which he had no will to stop or counteract._

Think.

_Another phalanx of Jaffa ran past his position before he decided that he'd have to risk it. He made it two corridors further when – after ducking his head around a corner – he saw four Jaffa standing in front of a closed door. He didn't have a lot of options and he had never been one to over think things. That has always been Daniel's bailiwick._

_He tucked his body and rolledinto the corridor, coming up into a kneeling position as the staff weapon whined in his hands four times. Two went down, holes smoking from where the energy burst had hit them. He smelled ozone as a return blast singed his jacket. He raised to his feet, running towards the remaining Jaffa, the staff weapon in his hands continuing blasting holes in the walls and floor. A stray hit from his weapon had one of the two spinning away to crumble to the floor. The remaining guard he tackled, bringing them both to floor in a most undignified tumble of legs and arms. Two wild swings later he rose from the comatose man beneath him. He could hear shouts of alarm vibrate off the walls around him as he slammed his fist into the key pad, watching the door slide open with increasing impatience._

_To find Carter, Teal'c and Daniel sprawled on the floor._

_Dead._

_Just like Charlie…so long ago...in his bedroom._

* * *

"He's not getting any better. Maybe we should risk it."

"He's not ready yet."

"How would you know?"

"I know Ja..Dean. He's not ready yet."

"Fine. But if he dies, it's on you."

* * *

TBC

_I'm rewatching Stargate and my muse is back on this story. The next chapter is written and with my very capable super beta Terra. So no worries that it's gonna be another year before an update. ;-) Thanks for everyone who has put this story on alert and fav. Also to all readers, lurkers and reviewers who spend time on this story. Oh, and if someone can please explain to me how the darn poll thingy works, it would be much appreciated. _

_So, cookies and milk to all those who review. ;-)_


	6. Charlie

_A/N Thank you for all the reviews. I loved each and everyone. For those who seem a tad confused, don't worry. Things will be explained as the story develops. What I did change is to make past events in italics as well as dream sequences. Everything else is present. Hope that makes sense. ;-)_

_Also great thank you to my beta who worked and reworked this. We spend a little extra time with this chapt. _

**Charlie**

_The air was __hazy; misty tendrils drifted across the barren ground in front of him. It was cold enough so he could see his breath materialize__ in front of his face. He looked up; counting the stars that flickered tentatively against the deep blue heavens. _

"Feel us…"

_He shivered at the voice which seemed to form right in front of him, becoming something a little more substantial than the mist that was now flowing around and in between his arms and legs. He took a step back and then another, feeling more ill at ease every moment. The vapor followed him and then even while he blinked the stars were blotted out and all that he could see was the gray, woolen color of the fog. In panic he turned, but there was no but there was no escaping them._

"See us…"

_The hazy, swirling cloud in front of him coalesced, forming a body as it stepped toward him. Eyes are formed, dark and empty and then a nose and then lips that slowly turned upward in a macabre copy of a smile. He stumbled backwards, away from the apparition and then there was nothing beneath his feet and he was falling while the ghostly form followed, dancing on the wind in front of him._

"Understand us…"

_He heard laughter on the wind that whistled past his body, dark and sinister. He closed his eyes but it didn't change the image twirling in his mind's eye. Hands reached for him, closing around his own fingers and then tightening painfully, bringing both of them to a stop to drift on the screaming wind that flowed past their bodies._

"Become us…"

_And then he was pulled into a hug._

_And he changed._

_And nothing was the same anymore._

* * *

The nightmare was ubiquitous, waiting for him every time he closed his eyes. He drifted between wakefulness and broken sleep, his strength sapped further by chronic pain.

Sometimes there were two people in the room with him just as he'd switch from sleep to waking. One person's voice was deep and resonated inside his head. The other voice was soft-spoken with a gentle caring twang to it. But that latter voice changed sometimes. It reminded him too much of Anubis and when he did hear it, he would shrink back into himself – like when a frightened animal sees a predator coming at him.

He was awake but he kept his eyes closed against the brightness of the sun streaming in through the window when he heard the door open. Familiar footsteps sounded and then the bed dipped as Seth seated himself by his side. Calloused hands prodded his ribs and he grimaced, shifting away from the probing fingers.

"Your ribs are healing nicely."

He forced his eyes open, enough for him to see the outline of Seth against the sun drenched room. He wanted to speak, he wanted to say thank you but the words were stuck in his throat and wouldn't come out. Instead brown eyes met his, searching. It was too much and he turned his head away again and closed his eyes, not wanting the scrutiny that the other man was silently asking.

Seth gave a small sigh, patted his hand and stood up. He stubbornly kept his eyes closed and his head turned towards the wall.

He fell back to sleep and when he woke again, he couldn't recall if he had heard Seth leave or not. But the other person was back again and he kept his breathing deep, his eyes shut in a semblance of sleep.

It was the eerie goa'uld quality voice again, sounding angry.

"I have been against this from the beginning? If you had told me we could've prevented this from ever happening."

"And in the process given up on finding a potential weapon to be used against Anubis?" the deeper voice asked exasperated.

"The risk wasn't worth it. Look what it's done to him."

"Yes, and you have the means to make him remember but you keep fighting us on this. - He's not ready – you say. I don't believe that sentiment for one second. You care too much for the Tau'ri, Selmak."

"You forget. If not for the Tau'ri, the Tok'ra wouldn't exist anymore."

"Think what you will."

A moment later the door slammed shut. Pain slammed into his head like a jack hammer and he groaned, no longer able to keep up with his subterfuge of feigned sleep.

"How much have you heard, Dean?"

It was the gentle voice again, the goa'uld voice gone for the moment. "Not much," he lied, not trusting the situation or liking the darker question in the man's voice. Silence met his answer and he shifted on the bed, ignoring the sting of his healing ribs as he opened his eyes and looks at Seth. The older man met his gaze and stood for a moment irresolute before breaking eye contact. Moving over to where he lay, Seth fussed with his bedding, pulling the worn blanket higher.

"You should rest. I'll bring you some soup at noon."

He nodded but when Seth turned to leave he found himself asking, "Who is the Tau'ri?"

Seth froze. The ex-general stood quiet for a second longer before replying in a voice that sounded suspiciously saddened, "Enemies of Anubis."

"Oh."

He watched Seth leave, never once turning around once he'd asked his question. And somehow he knew that the Tau'ri were important.

Maybe even important to him?

As he closed his eyes again and sleep enveloped him, the image of the blond-haired woman with blue eyes became more real than ever.

* * *

"_Dad, let's play some catch."_

"_Not now, Charlie. I have work to do."_

"_Dad, please, I wanna play catch."_

"_Charlie, I said 'no.'"_

"_Fine. I'll play by myself then."_

* * *

He woke with a scream on his lips, the smell of cordite still sharp enough that his nostrils flared in remembered pain and anguish. He turned on his side, curling up tight as he tried to keep everything inside. As he tried not to remember.

* * *

_Hear us…._

* * *

He groaned, shaking his head at the voices shattering the stillness around him. A sudden chill in the room had him shivering; he wrapped the blanket firmly around his body.

* * *

_Dad?_

* * *

He gripped the blanket tighter, his knuckles white against the dark brown of the bedspread. No longer feeling safe in the bed, he stumbled to his feet, ignoring the pull of muscles barely healed. He made his way to the door, knowing only that he had to get out of the room that seemed to close in around him. Suffocating him. Smothering him. -Yet, on some other level, he knew it wouldn't make any difference. He managed to grasp the door knob with clammy hands.

* * *

_Please, don't go?_

* * *

He was aware of a presence right behind him and his breaths came fast and shallow. His hand was still on the door knob, not yet having had the time to get away; he leaned his forehead against the rough texture of the door, unwilling to acknowledge what was going on behind him.

The memory of Anubis and the ancient device invading his mind suddenly appeared. He gasped at the memory, not prepared for its reality or implications.

* * *

_You have to remember_

* * *

"NO!"

One word but it exploded out of his body, loud and clear.

* * *

_You have to remember_

* * *

Again. The voice insistent. Soft. Pleading. He felt burning behind his eyes, the kind that always precedes the sting of tears, but he didn't allow them to go any further. Men don't cry. He didn't cry. He tried desperately to convince himself, it wasn't worth it in any case.

_Ghostly hands flirted over his hands and face. Tugged at his hair._

He choked, his hand cramping from its hold on the door knob. And then they were there, inside his mind and he couldn't flee anymore. They showed him Charlie.

They showed him death.

And he crumbled into himself, blocking the door with his broken body, entirely unaware of the worried and agitated voice on the other side calling his name.

And he remembered.

Charlie.

His son.

Dying.

Again and again until there was nothing inside his mind anymore but Charlie's not living anymore.

* * *

"You have to stop this, Selmak. I don't know how much longer he can take this. We need his mind intact for the device to work."

"He's strong, Jasek. I know him. He will get through this. We cannot force the issue. He needs to find his own way back or he will be lost to us forever."

"Maybe he'll be lost but he can make new memories, a new start. I don't know why you care so much about this particular Tau'ri in any case."

"If you care so much, why don't you use your own mind for the device?"

"You know why. It's already attuned itself to his mind. No other mind will be able to use it until he is released from it."

"And until he is released, I'm not going to risk him becoming what Anubis seeks. And while Jack is still in there somewhere, fighting, I'm not going to give up. He will remember. You will see."

"For your sake, it better be soon. Anubis is growing stronger each day that O'Neill fails to remember. I, for one, would not want to be here when he comes back and realizes that his prize possession is no longer in his prison but roaming the world like a little lost puppy."

"It won't come to that."

"Are you sure about that? The days grow short, Selmak. There's not much time left to nurse and coddle him. The council's patience is growing short too. "

"I'm sure. If there is one thing I have learned about Jack and SG-1 it is to never underestimate their ability to overcome the seemingly impossible. He will come back to us. Mind intact. You will see."

"Fine. But, be advised I will make a recommendation to the council that if he has not remembered in one week that we will continue with the rest of the plan regardless."

"Duly noted."

* * *

Dean woke, blinking his eyes against the sunlight that lit up the room, while chasing shadows into small dark corners where the brightness didn't reach. He was back on the bed, covered with blankets. A small wisp of ghostly tendrils faded and for a brief moment he wondered what had happened so that he'd think _back_ on the bed. He became aware of the presence of another body in the room and turning his head he saw Seth seated on a chair beside the bed.

"How you feeling?"

"Good." He pushed himself upwards, wondering if something had happened and why it feels as if he'd forgotten something important, again. Seth seemed to wrestle with something inside of him, scaring Dean. For a moment he wondered if Seth was contemplating showing him the door, putting him back on the street. He was careful to keep his anxiety bottled inside as he watched the play of emotions on the other man's face. Seth gave a small sigh and Dean knew that whatever internal struggle had been going on inside the man seemed to have finally played out.

"What does Charlie mean to you?"

_Death. Dying. A boy's face plastered in blood._

He swallows against the images his mind conjures up. He doesn't like them and he grips the blankets like a life line.

"It's time for you to remember, Dean."

He doesn't want to. Not ever.

"It's time for you to remember."

"Why?" He is surprised that he could voice the question in a tone that seemed for all intents and purposes to be emotionless.

"Because it's important."

And he had no answer to that. Nothing to give. Nothing to take.

He wanted the blue-eyed-angel.

He wanted her.

But he knew that she wasn't real.

And Charlie was all too real.

"No."

One word, unconsciously echoing his earlier answer to Charlie's appeal. Then the ghosts were back, pulling him to the place inside his mind that he had thought locked and impregnable.

Back to that day.

And some part inside him screaming at him that all this was because of the ancient device. That his memories of Charlie were being corrupted.

And that his name wasn't Dean.

It was Jack.

* * *

_Next chapter is with my beta. Let me know what you think. Also ice cream to those who can guess who Seth is. ;-)_


	7. You have to remember

_A/N. Thank you for the great reviews and for Topanga who push and badger until I get it right. Thank you my friend for all your time and effort into making this chapter better._

**You have to remember...**

"_You have to remember." _

By now, that damn phrase was trapped in his mind, triggering a cascading maelstrom of thoughts, none of which he wanted to think about. Or remember. And the more he tried to get out of the morass he found himself mired in, the more he sank into the quicksand of despair, disappearing with no idea how to get himself out.

Images he tried his best to ignore kept flashing in his mind. Something was fundamentally changing in his body and he was more than a little bit disconcerted. He knew it had something to do with what was done to him while under Anubis' confinement but for the life of him, he couldn't recall what had occurred.

He curled into a fetal position as if the very act would help ease his mental anguish he was experiencing and once his distress started to abate somewhat another memory surfaced -

* * *

"_Jack?"_

_Of course it would be Daniel asking, confused brown eyes on him as he and the rest of SG-1 is made to stand off to one side on the cliff while one of the Jaffa is dialing out._

"_It's gonna be okay, Danny," he says, not believing it for one second._

"_What's going on?"_

_Aware of the Jaffa surrounding him, he contemplated not answering. But then Daniel will probe and nag until he got an answer. And he didn't want to risk their coming back__ here._

"_You're going home."_

"_Jaack?" Daniel stretched out the "a" in Jack's name making it a question while sounding a little lost_,_ as he was propelled to the waiting wormhole. Carter's eyes glistened which made them look suspiciously like she had tears in them; Teal'c was occupying himself by fighting the two Jaffa holding him._

"_Let go of me, dammit," Daniel swore as he struggled against two Jackal guards that had their hands firmly clamped around his biceps. _

_Jack grimaced. He wasn't used to Daniel swearing. He didn't like the desperation as the archaeologist managed to jerk one arm free, half turning to him in a beseeching manner. _

"_Jack, what did you promise?"_

"_Nothing, Daniel. Just go home, okay." And don't come back. He thinks but doesn't say._

_"Anubis had made you use the device, didn't he?" There was so much accusation in Daniel's voice. And fear. And definitely guilt. "Jack, how much time?"_

_He shrugged, not really sure himself. It could be days, it could be weeks. But he needed to see his team step through the wormhole while he at least still had his own mind. A __whisper drifted on the wind that moaned in a__ low keening voice around them, tucking ghostly fingers through his hair and he shivered at the touch as he tried to keep the feeling of desperation and doom from showing on his face._

_"Jack," Daniel started again and he had had enough. "Oh fer crying out loud, Daniel. Just drop it, okay. It's done."_

_He turned away, staring out over the plain trying his best to ignore the gasp of surprise from his friend while the knot in his stomach cramped into a tighter ball._

Hear us...

_He tried his best to ignore the dark whisper as what felt like fingers raked across his chest, raising the hairs on the back of his neck._

_"O'Neill."_

_He half turns, aware of the deep bass of Teal'c spoken quietly._

"_I will return for you." Teal'c states solemnly, his gaze strong and pure, keeping hold of his own and promising much more. Retribution. Salvation. Rescue no matter the personal cost._

_He knew that they wouldn't be able to return. But he gives a nod in any case to stem the dark violence that was hidden so well in the big Jaffa. Anubis had promised alive if they cooperated._

_The half-ascended being had said nothing about what would happen if they resisted too much._

"_Sir?"_

"_It's gonna be okay, Carter. I'll see you soon. Keep the beer cold," he said quietly, knowing that he was lying through his teeth._

"_Yes, sir."_

_She turned away, the glow from the wormhole blue against her features and he drank as much of it he could in. She set her shoulders, shrugged the grips of the Jaffa __from her arms and with quiet dignity stepped__ through the wormhole._

_Daniel was thrown and he stumbled into the event horizon, eyes still pleadingly on Jack's, as if that would change anything about their current situation. Or the fact that he was staying behind._

_Teal'c gave one of his long slow bows and Jack knew that the Jaffa would do anything and everything to get him back._

_With a woosh the wormhole closed and with it relief to know that at least for now his team was alive and safe._

_And then the ghostly fingers and whispers were back, invading his body and mind as he allowed the guards to take him back to the ha'tak and Anubis._

_And the memories of his own personal hell._

* * *

He came up out of the bed like a drowning man reaching for the water break, mouth open, gulping for air.

"Easy, Dean. It's just a nightmare."

His chest heaving, he turns confused eyes on Seth, thinking for a long second that he knew him from before. Brown eyes searching his own while a strong hand is laying reassuringly on his shoulder.

"What is happening to me?" he manages to ask before he could stop himself.

"I am not sure. But you cannot give in. You must fight this, Dean. You must remember who you are?"

Shrugging the hand from his shoulder, he replies asking Seth why it was so important for him to remember. And at the same time wondering what was in it for the old man if he did try to search his mind for more than just the last month's hell.

"Because there is not much time left."

"Time for what?" he ask as he swings his feet off the bed, "cause I sure as hell do not understand."

Seth sighs and then mutters - "Why did he have to be so stubborn," - to some unseen listener. Dean heard him.

"Who exactly are you, old man?"

"Who do you think I am?"

Again, a fleeting glimpse of Seth in some sort of brown uniform, weapon in hand as he returns fire to some unseen enemy flirts like a playful wind across his mind, dancing for a brief moment before his eyes before disappearing over the horizon.

He shakes his head, clearing that particular image.

"I don't know, now do I?"

"You do, you just don't want to remember."

He rose from the bed, making his way to the window and lifting a corner of the drapes to give a quick look out.

Everything seemed quiet. Peaceful.

He didn't trust his own senses.

Something was off. He could feel it in his gut.

"Dean?"

"I think it's time for me to go," he says, reaching for his tunic. He doesn't see the look of alarm on Seth's face as he pulls the shirt over his head, his ribs aching in protest to his physical action. But he did hear the quiet knock.

It was the deeper voice he remembered from half-baked memories hidden away in his dreams.

"_Many have said that, but you are the first I believe can achieve what he said…"_

Dean frowns at the words, the image of a Jaffa dressed in battle fatigues hovering almost invisible in his mind's eye.

A second later a big black man enters, the mark of first prime engraved on his forehead. The Jaffa was a little older but still the same man as the dreamy quality vision in his mind. He felt surprised when the normal ball of fear he was used to when seeing any Jaffa didn't centre on his stomach.

"I told you to wait."

"I could do so no longer. I thought that perhaps I could be of assistance, old friend."

"Maybe. He is as stubborn now as he was when he still had all his memories. I am not getting through to him."

"Hello, still in the room," he states as he looks from the one man to the other. "What exactly is going on here?"

The jaffa turns to him, bows his head in slow mark of respect. "I thought perhaps my coming here would trigger your memory."

"Yeah?"

"Perhaps I was mistaken, for the man I knew would not have so readily allowed himself to be overcome by false memories."

Dean turns to Seth, "How long has he been here and more importantly, who exactly is this?"

"He arrived this morning. You are good friends."

He laughs derisively at that statement. "Yeah. Last friend I made with a Jaffa gave me good enough memory that I'd not forget in a hurry. Sorry, you don't ring a bell. So if you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving."

Brushing past the big Jaffa, he opens the door to be confronted by the woman from his dreams. He stops, his mouth dry as she steps toward him, a questioning glance behind him before all her attention was back on him.

And then she spoke a name he hadn't heard in a long while. A name he thought he didn't want to remember.

He stretched out his hand as the image before him wavered than coalesced into something solid. Her skin was satin soft. He traced her lips, felt her hair, felt the warmth of her breath over his fingers.

"Am I dead?"

"No, Jack. You're alive."

He took a moment to take her in and then he was leaning forward and kissing her. He tasted her, felt the life in her even as she returned his kiss.

It was right at that moment that his senses decided to overload as memories surged back, filling his mind with flashing images and sounds. His knees gave in and he slid into a boneless heap at her feet.

Then darkness replaced the vision of his angel.

* * *

_Hope you liked the ending for all the J/S fans out there. ;-) Next chapter is halfway through. Let me know if you liked the ending. ;-)_


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